Chapter 4 - The Tipping Point
GLASS SHATTERED.
The heavy reinforced glass window of the subterranean service door buckled inward under the impact of a flashbang grenade thrown by state police tactical officers who had breached the ground-floor storm cellar doors.
A blinding white flash and a deafening sound wave detonated in the corridor.
Dr. Harrison Blake screamed, dropping his weapon and clutching his ears as he was thrown backward against the stone wall by the concussive force. Marcus Kane tried to sprint toward the rear exit, but Arthur Vance tackled him to the ground, pinning his arms behind his back with lightning speed.
“STATE POLICE! DON'T MOVE!” voices roared as half a dozen tactical officers surged through the smoke, their assault rifles raised, sweeping the room.
Within ten seconds, Dr. Blake and Marcus Kane were pinned against the cold floor, pulled into heavy steel handcuffs. Mrs. Harper lay crumpled in the corner, sobbing hysterically into her hands.
Vincent didn't spend a single second looking at the captured criminals. He turned directly to me.
“Where is the chemical specification sheet?” Vincent asked urgently.
I rushed over to the steel table, grabbing a thick yellow binder that sat beside the pressure cylinders. I flipped through the technical pages until I found the chemical formulation page for Compound B-14.
“Here it is!” I said, pointing to a highlighted section near the bottom of page twelve.
ANTIDOTE / NEUTRALIZING AGENT: INTRAVENOUS PRALIDOXIME CHLORIDE COMBINED WITH HIGH-DOSE ATROPINE SULFATE.
“Pralidoxime Chloride,” I read aloud. “It’s an acetylcholinesterase reactivator! It reverses the chemical binding of organophosphate compounds!”
Vincent grabbed the binder, looking at the medical formulation. He picked up his radio, connecting directly to the medical transport team waiting in the basement bunker.
“Medical team, this is Moretti!” Vincent commanded. “The compound is B-14! The antidote protocol requires immediate IV administration of Pralidoxime Chloride and Atropine! Prepare the boys for immediate transport to Yale-New Haven Children’s Hospital under armed escort!”
“Copy that, Mr. Moretti! We have the medication on standby!” the team replied through the radio.
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Vincent looked at me, his eyes filled with profound, overwhelming emotion. Without saying a word, he reached out, grabbed my shoulder, and gave it a tight, trembling squeeze.
“Let's go save my sons,” he whispered.
